Hide now.
I breathe through my nose. If I reach for it, I can still claim those parts of me that are human. My fingers snatch out, grasping, and some part of me scurries away.
I hold tighter.
I am very still. I am almost ready.
Ican’t stop sweating.
It’s not normal sweat either—it’s this thick, musky smell that clings to my clothes no matter how much perfume I spray. I catch Kass wrinkling her nose as I slide into my seat in first period, and something cold and sharp twists in my stomach.
“You okay, Briar?” she asks, leaning away slightly. “You seem... off today.”
Off. The word hits like a slap. I force my lips into that perfect smile, the one that’s disarmed teachers and charmed boys since I was little. But even as I do it, I can feel something wrong with my face, like the muscles aren’t quite connecting right.
“I’m perfect,” I say, but my voice sounds strange. Sharper. “Maybe you should worry about your own problems. Like that disaster you call an outfit.”
Kass’s face crumples slightly, but she doesn’t back down. “Seriously, Briar. You’ve been acting weird all week. And you smell like…”
“Like what?” The words come out as a snarl. Too loud. Far too fucking loud. Several heads turn our way, and I see concern flickering in all their eyes. Not admiration. Not fear of my social power. Actual concern, like I’m some kind of sick and wounded animal.
The thought sends rage shooting through my veins.
“Nothing,” Kass mumbles, but she’s studying my face with this horrible, pitying expression. “Maybe you should go to the nurse?”
Go to the nurse? Like I’m some pathetic weakling who needs help. Like I’m not Briar fucking Hartley, the girl who runs this entire school.
But even as the fury builds, I can feel the scratching starting again. Faint at first, then growing louder. Coming from inside the walls; no, inside my head. God, I can’t tell anymore.
I dig my nails into my palms, trying to focus, but all I want to do is scratch. Scratch until the itching stops, scratch until the burning under my skin goes away.
“I don’t need a nurse,” I snap. “I need you to mind your own business before I give you something real to worry about.”
But Kass isn’t backing down this time. She’s looking at me like she’s seeing something she’s never seen before, and I hate it. Hate the way her eyes are wide with something that looks almost like... fear?
No. Not fear of my power. Fear of me. Of what I’m becoming.
The scratching gets louder.
“Briar.” Her voice is gentle now, like she’s talking to a wounded animal. “Maybe we should...”
“Should what?” I lean forward, and I swear I can smell her, really smell her. The flowery shampoo, the cheap vanilla body spray, but underneath it something else. Something warm, alive and vulnerable. “Should help poor little Briar? Is that what you think?”
I’m standing now, though I don’t remember getting up. The entire classroom has gone quiet, all eyes on us. Mrs. Patterson has stopped mid-sentence at the front of the room.
“I think,” I say, my voice dropping to a whisper that somehow carries to every corner of the room, “that you should be very, very careful about what you say next.”
Kass’s breathing has quickened. I can hear it, fast little puffs of air that make something deep in my chest purr with satisfaction. She looks like a cornered rabbit, all wide eyes and trembling lips.
Perfect.
“Because the last person who crossed me…” I continue, taking a step closer, “ended up with photos of her drunk and half-naked spread all over social media. Remember Maya? Remember how she cried when she found out everyone had seen her getting her hair all shaved off?”
Kass goes pale. “Briar, you said that was?—”
“A joke?” I laugh, and the sound that comes out is nothing like my usual musical giggle. It’s sharp and harsh, and makes several people flinch. “There are no jokes, Kass. There’s just what happens to people who forget their place.”
“Miss Hartley.” Mrs. Patterson’s voice cuts through the tension. “That’s enough. Office. Now.”
